


distractions

by sakon



Category: Ayatsuri Sakon | Puppet Master Sakon
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:00:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25872508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakon/pseuds/sakon
Summary: Legs. And muscles. And all of that. (Or: Zenkichi is a bit of a horndog at times.)
Relationships: Tachibana Sakon/Fujita Zenkichi





	distractions

It was the morning; sunlight glimmered, and the sound of fresh food hitting a plate echoed through the apartment. Shuffling sounded quietly — Zenkichi could barely hear — and the shadow of a familiar figure came closer. 

Sakon walked by, holding a mug in one hand and a plate in the other. Eggs and toast and — he did a double take. Cuddled in a large shirt, one that seemed much larger on his tinier frame, one that had a pattern Zenkichi remembered leaving on a dresser before sleeping, Sakon looked utterly —

Zenkichi swallowed and blushed, eyes travelling down and staring. What a good morning and sight. 

The soft fabric barely dropped at his mid-thighs, a little lower, bunched fabric crinkling at his elbows; it was big on Zenkichi, and it absolutely cloaked the younger man. Sakon pulled at the sleeves, walking around the kitchen, maneuvering and bumping into the walls of the tiny space. Legs moving, the slope of his thighs barely visible but the curve of his behind most definitely — he shook his head, watching as Sakon turned, the back of his legs in view. Eyes up. He gulped, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Wow, he looked very good. Good.

Shaking his head again, he walked up to the counter, watching him reach for something at the bottom shelf of the cabinet. It rode up, exposing the soft flesh of his thighs, the slender gap between them and the slight definition to them as he moved. Zenkichi continued staring, the plop of feet against tile snapping him from his trance.

Dammit, he really needed to stop staring at his legs.


End file.
